I'll wait for you (under the mistletoe)
by ChocolateWonder
Summary: Rubeus only wants one thing for Christmas—a French headmistress. Written for QLFC Round 8.


**QLFC Round 8: (Harpies, Chaser 2)** _Prompt: [Chaser 2, crochetaway, Bats]- Ever since Luna mentioned Nargles like to live in mistletoe, Hagrid always checks the mistletoe he brings into the castle carefully to make sure there aren't any nargles present._

 **|Additional Prompts|** (word) elegant, (song) All I Want For Christmas Is You, (quote) "This is not a normal day." -Raymond Gaines, San Andreas

 **Hogwarts**

 **Roald Dahl Day Event-** Prompt: (word) impossible **|Ticket Prompts|** winter, happy

 **Back to School Event-** 4\. (word) headmaster/headmistress (I used both)

 **Writing Club- |Days of the Month: World Dream Day|** Write about someone daydreaming.

 **Writing Club- |Showtime, Act One|** 14\. Stay Alive: (word) retreat

 **Word Count: 1901**

 ** _Note: I don't remember this happening in canon, so I made the entire story up._**

 ** _I couldn't find any guides on how to write Madame Maxime's French accent, so I improvised from what I remembered from the books._**

 _Thanks to my awesome teammates and Em for looking this over!_

 **...oOo...**

 **Christmas 1993**

"…an' fer homework, yeh gotta write me an essay on Nifflers," Hagrid instructed. "Due nex' time I see yeh. Dismissed."

The class walked up the winding path to the castle, chatting away with their companions, but only one second year was walking in the other direction towards his hut.

Rubeus, who was busy looking through his schedule, didn't even realize she was there until she piped up, "Is that mistletoe, Professor?"

Rubeus whirled around in alarm. When he saw it was only a small blonde Ravenclaw, his heart calmed. She was one of his favorite visitors apart from Harry, Ron, and Hermione, due to her interest in magical had met during one of Luna's leisurely strolls in the Forbidden Forest. Rubeus had feared for her safety, so he offered to accompany her every time she wanted to go into the forest.

"Yeah," he said proudly, puffing out his chest. "Dumbledore's asked me to hang it up in the castle—a real nice thing of him ter do."

"Have you checked it for Nargles?"

He did a double take. "Wha'?"

"They like to live in mistletoe," Luna explained serenely. "I thought everyone knew that."

He was genuinely confused. "Sorry, but wha' are Nargles?"

Luna looked slightly disappointed. "My daddy published it in his magazine. Don't you have a subscription?"

When Rubeus shook his head, the girl reached into her bag and extracted a roll of parchment. "Just sign your name and address here, and you'll receive a free one-month subscription. If you decide you want to continue receiving magazines, then you have to pay a monthly fee," she recited, "but don't worry, I'm sure someone like you will enjoy it a lot."

Bemused yet curious, Rubeus scrawled the needed information and Luna took the parchment from him, stuffing it back in her bag.

"Thanks," she said cheerfully. "Now, back to my previous question. Have you inspected the mistletoe for Nargles? They're mischievous little thieves who like to steal personal items. I couldn't find a sock the other day, but none of my roommates claimed to have it."

Rubeus realized with a sudden jolt that he may have also been a victim of a Nargle before. "I los' a couple o' Galleons the day before las'," he admitted. "Think it was a Nargle?"

"Definitely," replied the tiny Ravenclaw affirmatively. "You might want to check the mistletoe now for them—I'll help you."

Rubeus nodded gratefully and passed her a small bundle. She held the bundle to her nose, inhaled deeply, and smiled.

"If you smell a slightly sour odor, that means there are Nargles present," she advised him, "and currently, there are none. But that's not the best way to find a Nargle."

She rummaged through her bag once more with her free hand, pulling out a pair of odd glasses with bright pink cardboard frames and blue film acting as shades. She placed them on her nose, peered intently at the mistletoe, humming thoughtfully.

"Well?" pressed Rubeus.

"Hmm…I don't see any. This clump must be Nargle-repellent," she reported. "Probably Professor Dumbledore had it sprayed beforehand, but it is best to double-check."

She dropped the bundle on the table with the rest of the plants. "Do you need any help hanging them up?" she offered kindly.

"I don', but thanks fer offerin'," he said, his chest swelling with pride. "Dumbledore's trustin' me to do it by meself—but thank yeh."

Luna nodded. "Anytime, Professor. I'll see you next class. Oh, and the glasses will come with next November's issue, so you can use them next winter."

"Thanks again, Luna. See yeh," he said jovially.

 **...oOo...**

 **Christmas 1994**

True enough, the glasses had arrived with the November issue, and Rubeus was currently wearing the pink spectacles. They were rather small, perched on his large nose, but he was able to see mediocrely well through them.

Another pile of mistletoe sat before him. Rubeus peered through these tiny shades, scrutinizing the green fronds. He had to ensure that no Nargles were lurking surreptitiously in the bundle.

His attention was briefly stolen as he heard a feminine voice echoing loudly through the grounds right outside his hut. An abnormally tall woman in an elegant fur coat was walking up the path to the castle, complaining in a carrying tone. Rubeus strained his ears.

"—eez simply impossible!" Olympe fussed. "How eez there a fourth champion? It eez simply not done!"

"I'm sorry, Olympe, I have as much of an idea as you do," replied Dumbledore, his soft and weary voice somehow reaching Rubeus's ears. "We cannot continue our investigation of who entered Harry's name into the Goblet because we cannot change the Goblet's decision. It has determined that Harry is worthy enough to be a champion."

"But he eez only fourteen!" Olympe burst out.

Their footsteps faded away, but their argument did not abate. Rubeus could clearly see that the Beauxbatons' headmistress was frustrated, judging by her defensive posture.

She was such a headstrong and stubborn woman, yet Rubeus received an inexplicable feeling in his stomach every time he saw her.

With a toothy grin, he gathered the mistletoe in his massive arms and whistled a melody as he strode towards the castle, daydreaming about what it would be like to catch Olympe under the mistletoe.

...oOo…

Rubeus strategically hung the last sprig of mistletoe near the entrance of the Great Hall, so unsuspecting couples would be caught under it and be forced to kiss, which was something he was hoping to do to a certain female guest.

He sighed, envisioning him and the Beauxbatons headmistress standing below a sprig of mistletoe, completely dwarfing him, her head brushing the sprig due to her height.

He imagined facing the lovely woman, his heartbeat increasing its pace from just the mere thought of it. His breath hitching, he stared up into her chocolate-colored eyes with desire.

She bent down slowly, reaching his level, puckering her lips—

"Rubeus?"

Rubeus snapped out of daydream to look down at Professor Sprout, who was craning her neck up to see him. He coughed with embarrassment.

"Yeah?" he asked, his voice still slightly husky.

"Albus wants to see you in his office," she said, evidently puzzled by his delayed response, but choosing not to comment on it.

He nodded. "Thank yeh. I'll see 'im right away."

He walked briskly past the Herbology teacher, ascended a few staircases, and arrived at the headmaster's office.

Rubeus stared blankly at the gargoyle. "I'm here to see Dumbledore."

"Password?"

He realized he had neglected to ask for the password.

"Er…Blood Pop?" he guessed blindly, using the previous password.

The gargoyle did not move. "Incorrect."

"Cockroach Cluster?"

"Incorrect."

"Chocolate Frog?"

He was ready to smash down the unmoving stone statue when a smooth voice came from behind him.

"Macaroon," said the French-accented voice.

Rubeus swallowed back his surprise as he turned to see Olympe, regally bobbing her head in satisfaction.

"I presume you are here to see zee headmaster?" the tall woman asked. "I need to see him as well. Come, let us go."

Rubeus was speechless, but he swore in that moment his heart became warmer.

He followed her up the winding steps and entered Dumbledore's office. The aged man was facing the window, his hand stroking her beard pensively.

Apparently, he had heard them come in, because he said in a tired voice, "I thought I had already made my answer clear, Olympe. Harry will be competing in the tournament, and there is nothing that can alter that."

Olympe was taken aback but recovered quickly, drawing herself up.

"But—"

"Olympe," said Dumbledore sternly, turning his chair so his blue eyes pierced her. She fell silent, looking mutinous.

"Olympe, I have a private matter to speak to Rubeus about, so if you could kindly leave, that would good."

Olympe opened her mouth to protest, thought better of it, and promptly closed it. She left the office, her heavy coat flying behind her.

Albus sighed, folding his hands in front of him. "Now, let's talk…"

 **...oOo...**

Rubeus emerged from the headmaster's office, new information in his mind that he could not disclose to any of the contestants.

He was on his way back to his hut when he saw Olympe, muttering furiously under her breath. In a rare stroke of luck, she was leaning on a wall just outside the Great Hall, completely alone and unknowingly under the sprig of mistletoe Rubeus had hung earlier.

Unsure of what to say, Rubeus lingered near the doors leading out of the entrance hall, shook his head (there was no way he was missing out on an opportunity like this), and hurried towards the upset witch.

"Olympe?"

She looked up and Rubeus was taken aback by her face. It was a mixture of coldness and contempt.

"Your _precious_ Albus," she seethed disdainfully, "eez absolutely disrespectful. He won't hear a word I say. I thought he was a noble and kind headmaster, but I have changed my mind."

Rubeus was appropriately befuddled. "Wha'?"

"After this unfair, biased tournament eez over, Beauxbatons will not maintain relations with the current headmaster."

Now Olympe was getting on his nerves. As much as he liked her, his loyalty to Dumbledore came first. And he would defend him to the end.

"Sorry," he said gruffly, "bu' Dumbledore isn't perfect and neither are yeh."

He had apparently said the wrong thing. Olympe's eyes blazed and she snapped, "But at least he should care about others' opinions!"

"Yeah," he replied calmly, not knowing where his sudden wisdom was coming from, "bu' what have yeh done to Dumbledore? You won' listen to a word he says; yer always insistin' that yer right."

He liked the feeling of being wise; it was a rarity.

Olympe seemed to consider his words. "I suppose you're right about that," she admitted. "I can be less than perfect—I am pushy."

Rubeus was growing slightly impatient; the mistletoe was still above their heads, but they hadn't kissed yet.

As of she could hear his thoughts, Olympe glanced up and spotted the mistletoe, her eyes widening. She glanced at Rubeus, who was beaming hopefully.

Olympe had noticed the half-giant's feelings for her; they weren't exactly hidden. She didn't reciprocate his feelings (he wasn't completely unattractive to her, but he was a little too much to handle), but she didn't want to dishearten him by not agreeing to kiss him.

She smiled coyly, leaned in, and just as Rubeus was closing his eyes with mounting anticipation and excitement, she pecked him on the cheek.

Before Rubeus could comprehend what was going on, she was retreating, a sly smile on her face.

He came to his senses, his heart dancing with joy, but slightly hindered by his disappointment. He had been desiring something more.

Oh well, at least he had received what he'd wanted—a kiss from the woman he fancied.

Giddy with happiness, he practically skipped to his hut, an enormous grin. Maybe he hadn't inspected that particular sprig of mistletoe closely enough for Nargles, because his heart had been stolen. They probably might've felt a little more giving this time around, because they had gifted it to someone else.

He sighed dreamily, an extra bounce in his skip.

Today had begun so normally, but it had turned into an extraordinary day all because of a kiss on the cheek.

 _This is not a normal day,_ he thought buoyantly.


End file.
